Tales of the Fallen Children
by Rorschmark
Summary: What makes a hero, and what makes a villain? Is there really such a thing as the concept of "hero" and "villain"? Or is that merely an excuse? An OC-featuring, antagonist-centered story showing the darker side of the RWBY universe.


What makes a hero, and what makes a villain?

When you hear the word "hero", good things come to mind, don't they? You think of justice and fairness. You think of kindness and mercy. You think of the ones that dedicate every second of their life to preserving and improving the lives of others. Most of us were raised to think this way, romanticizing and glorifying the term to the holiest of levels. It's necessary for those who need something or someone to look up to in times of desperation and despair. Even the very concept would be enough to soothe a mind who would've otherwise abandoned hope. No one could blame you if you thought naught but the most idealistic of a "hero".

But no matter how strong your belief, there are always two sides to a coin.

There are times when heroes have to be cruel, even to the ones they protect. There are times where they practice murder, torture, theft and other things the public would see as crimes or sins. Any alternatives and any attempt to keep to a moral code would lead to their objective being forever lost. But there are also times where they don't have to be cruel, where they choose to act ruthlessly without need for necessity. Even so, they can still be revered as heroes. As far as the blissfully oblivious are concerned, there is no difference between one who risks life and limb to pull another out of danger, one who beats the stuffing out of a unanimously nasty individual and one who kills unarmed people on the enemy's side. Which one of these is the true hero?

If the world were simple black and white, the first choice would be the most appropriate.

But of course, things are never that simple, not for the heroes glorified and certainly not for the villains scorned.

* * *

 _A village is burning in the night._

 _Houses are laid to ruin, blown away by lightning, wind and fire._

 _Bodies of varying appearance, charred and shredded, litter the ground._

 _Only two people are left, locked with each other in a vicious duel to the death._

 _One, a man, hammers away at his opponent's defenses with a baseball bat. Every blow carries power and is backed by fluid, swift twists of the wrists. Combined with aggressive footwork and the stance of a stone wall, he keeps the target in a constant state of defense._

 _The other, a woman, counters his assault with her staff. Although being forced into a retreat, she counters his blows with expertise and a sense of elegance. Her weapon is a staff, spinning and twirling to parry the strikes of the opposing weapon._

 _Both of their expressions are set in cold resolve, each mind set on nothing but the death of the other._

* * *

Power – one of many things that both a hero and a villain use.

It comes in various forms. There is power over the self, starting from gaining the ability to walk and ending with the resignation of your imminent demise. There is social power – speaking confidently, knowing the right thing to say and when to say it for the sake of charming an audience. There is political power – the power to change the path of millions as you see fit. There is that and much more. But what most of you probably think of when hearing the word is the power only found within the realms of myths and legends. That is the power to destroy armies, create and erase entire worlds and even control the very threads of fate as we know it. Both heroes and villains seek it and will go to considerable lengths to obtain it, regardless of the reasons they have and the means they use.

It is only through the eyes of other people that roles are properly defined.

* * *

 _The sound of bodies falling force Adam and his Lieutenant away from the conversation._

 _They turn their heads to see a human with a chokuto held on his shoulder and a curious gleam in the eye. The source of the noise came from their comrades, freshly felled by the intruder. The sight of it causes Adam to grit his teeth and the Lieutenant to growl. While Adam readies himself to grab the handle of Wilt, the Lieutenant readies to grab the chainsaw sword off his back. For a seconds, all both sides do is stare at one another._

 _The stranger speaks._

" _Heya."_

 _Adam is quick to respond, far from pleased. "You've got some nerve, human."_

 _The stranger shrugs. "Well, I've got to. Aside from giving a show, how else was I supposed to get you to draw that blade of yours? A little birdie told me that this was the best place for a fight, and by Dust, I'm gonna get a fight."_

 _His words draw astonishment from both of the White Fang officers – but only for a moment._

" _You," Adam begins to say, shocked and angry. "Came here and killed several of my comrades just to provoke us – provoke_ me – _into a fight?"_

 _The stranger chuckles, lifting his chokuto off of his shoulder and slinging the blood away. "Yep. Crazy world, huh?"_

 _Then, he lunges._

* * *

But can a person be deemed a hero just because of public opinion?

After all, there are many things even the closest of friends will not see from each other. One can only know what another allows to the surface, always blind to their true nature. Is your next door neighbor plotting a hit on you? Is your spouse putting a poison in your food? Will the teller you see at the bank steal all of your money? These are ridiculous possibilities, but they are more likely than you think. You don't know who's letting you keep your life and who's wanting to take it. You don't know who your friends or enemies are. When you're cursed by such tunnel vision, how could you ever hope to tell a hero from a villain?

You can never confirm – only assume.

* * *

 _A young man is standing in the middle of an open graveyard, head lowered and form heaving with his breaths. In his hands are two hand-held karambit-like scythes, which are covered in blood as much as his form is. Thanks to his Aura depleting long before this moment, several injuries decorate his person. But despite his stance and condition, he's far from defeat. If not for the lack of enemies, he would've continued fighting until his last breath. It is only orders from an unknown individual that he stands and waits, operating only on the next commands._

 _The voice of a woman and a man sound in his ears._

" _You've raised him well."_

" _He is a project in the making. But with proper training, he'll be the finest weapon in our arsenal.I trust you'll treat him well?"_

" _Of course. I treat all of my tools with the respect they deserve."_

" _Excellent. Come, Fehin. Your new handler awaits."_

 _Fehin raises his head up. The battlefield, bodies, blood and his injuries are all gone. In their place is a room of blackness, with only two other people standing with him. One is the obvious form of his master. The other is in the form of a black-haired woman with yellow eyes and a red dress. Both of them are staring intently at him, waiting for his choice – or rather, his imminent comprehension._

 _He gives a nod, moving to follow when they turn heel and exit the void._

* * *

But of course, no one can be blamed for that.

Sometimes it's best to just assume and not know.

Sometimes the truth is just too much for anyone to know.

Sometimes, you're just better off not knowing.

* * *

 _A girl of pink and brown comes across an interesting scene – or at least, a scene that she finds interesting._

 _Dancing amongst a sea of bodies is another girl. Her form is covered in blood that isn't hers, judging from the very fact she is dancing with such a nonchalant attitude A certain amount of area nearest to her is clear of bodies, deliberately made into a circle sizable enough for her movements. Not too far away is a radio which plays a slow yet cheerful song. This girl hasn't yet seen her audience, her eyes closed and her mind too caught up in her own dancing._

 _It isn't until the parasol-wielding girl makes her approach that the dancer notices, slowly bringing herself to a stop._

 _Color-mismatched eyes look on with curiosity and amusement, and their owner makes her walk slow and deliberate. She steps over the bodies, not minding the blood that splashes onto her shoes when her feet land in a puddle. Despite her casual speed, it's only a handful of seconds until she comes into the circle, daringly stopping in front of the dancer. She adopts a sly grin and tilts her head to the side, her eyes staring with challenge and inquiry._

 _A smile gradually crosses the dancer's face, offering her hand to the newcomer._

 _The newcomer flourishes her umbrella and stabs the tip into the ground, accepting the offered hand. She lets out a slight gasp as she is pulled in, with the bigger girl snaking a hand onto the smaller one's back. The shock quickly fades in favor of anticipation, and the smile returns as she looks up to meet the dancer's eyes._

 _They move in unison, beginning a waltz within the circle to match the rhythm of the happy song._

* * *

And so, to that end, we end up making our own truths. We live a way of life revolving around a system of a lie within a lie. We will always be uncertain of the things beyond our assumptions and impressions. We will always be unsure of the reality and do our best to distance ourselves from it, whether if we want to or not. You will begin to make your own truths about the ones chosen here. You will look, you will take it all in and you will assume. But whether you are right or wrong will be entirely up to you.

After all, who am I to tell you otherwise?

The only thing I will ask of you, however, is that you stay with me to the very end. As experienced as I am, I have only come to tell this one tale. My purpose here is this; to entertain, teach and maybe even inspire others into following the route I have taken. If you have learned even something small by coming here, then I have fulfilled that purpose. In exchange, maybe you can lend your word or a piece of advice so that I may learn, as well. A simple, fair trade, isn't it?

Now come on in and sit down. This may take a while...


End file.
